At the Strike of a Match
by Flypipe Rogancryd
Summary: Someone once said that, no matter what, no matter how, and no matter where, Batman and Dick Grayson will forever be part of the same big picture...
1. Prologue: What I Know is What I Know

_**There's this branch of National Library Board in my country that I frequent. I found a Flash comic there which went along similar lines - all different views of what might have become of Wally West, had he not become empowered by the speed force.  
It was a very good comic, and it inspired me to try my hand at this.**_

_**Ideas are always welcome.**_

* * *

**Prologue: What I Know is What I Know**

In the darkness of the room, there was a sudden flicker of light before it faded as quickly away. Then another followed, and another.

All at once, the fourth flicker burst into a small glow of orange light, its source being the match held carefully by a well-worn hand. The match was gently lowered, lighting several wicks of candles that were positioned upon the top of a cake.

Light - though dim - thus returned to the room, and faces could be seen gathered around a table. The cake's icing also became visible, as was the striking blue bird emblazoned across the width of a dark chocolate bat.

"...very funny, Alfred."

"Unfortunately, Master Dick, it was not my doing this one time around."

"Babs-"

"Not me, either, Short Pants."

"Tim? Roy? Wally?"

Heads shook in the poor lighting.

Then a throat cleared, and several eyes widened.

"..._Bruce_?"

"I _do_ have a sense of humor; I just hardly use it. (1)"

The young, black-haired, blue-eyed man of the hour blinked, then chuckled as he shook his head.  
_That_ one, he had not seen coming.

"Dude, your candles are melting."

"Some things just can't be rushed, BB; don't have a cow."

Somewhere in the darkness, much to several indignant protests, a pair of horns poked forth in the visibility range, followed by a strangely familiar lowing.

It was quite the party in this place - almost every one that Dick Grayson - as the first Robin or as Nightwing - had ever befriended was there. And that was a lot of people.

"Damn it, Logan! That was _not_ what I meant!"

"Moooooooooo."

"Settle down, people!"

Amidst the ongoing quarrel, Dick looked back at the cake and the melting candles upon it. In his life, there had been many things he wished for on annual basis, some which he would continue to ask for. Who knew, maybe accumulative request worked better.

There had been one wish he had always questioned, one which he never asked for in the end.

Sure, he had sometimes wished his parents were still alive - times in his youth - but did he wish none of that had happened?  
He would always wish Tony Zucco had not showed up to threaten Mr. Haley, that his parents did not have to pay with their lives.  
But did he wish Batman had not descended from the night and come talk to a crying little boy that fateful night? Did he wish he had never become Robin, the Boy Wonder?

He could not honestly say.

He looked up, above the chorus of little flames, and at his guardian. Bruce nodded, to which he answered with a smile.

If anything, he would never regret ever meeting Batman; he could not imagine what life would have been without meeting Batman. It was destiny's design; always would be.

Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.

Batman and Robin...

Batman and Nightwing...

Guardian and Ward...

Father and Son...

One would be static without the other.

They would always be the Dynamic Duo.

_May that never change_, Dick decided.  
Then he blew out the flames.

* * *

(1): In response to the fanfic "_How I Wonder_", which I bugged the heck out of Pelze-Junge for. 


	2. Take 1: Flying High and Proud

**Take 1: Flying High and Proud**

"Once again, ladies and gentlemen: Robin, the Boy Wonder!"

The spotlights from above, the roaring applause from below, and the lone figure standing atop the platform as he took another bow.

Slowly, step by step, the young aerialist descended the ladder until his feet were once again upon the ground. The townspeople of Gotham were still cheering as he slipped out of the tent.

After that fateful day when that...accident had occurred, he thought he would never fly again. And yet, here he was now: not only flying, but soaring, more like an eagle than a little robin.

Unfortunately, he would have to ask Mr. Haley for a title change in a matter of days; when one passed a cornerstone birthday, he just couldn't be a "boy" wonder anymore.

He could see himself bearing his new name, now - no longer Robin, the Boy Wonder, but maybe Nightwing, the _Man_ Wonder.

...or something along those lines.

"Hey, Grayson! You've got a - dare I say it - _very_ important guest waiting for you."

The youth promptly grinned, knowing who his sword-swallowing, fire-eating friend meant. Taking off at a light jog, he hurried to the caravan and burst in.

"Slow down, chum; where's the hurricane?"

The young man's grin widened as the truth was confirmed, enthusiastically greeting the famous Gotham billionaire that stood before him. "Mr. Wayne!"

"Now, Richard, I've told you before; it's just Bruce."

"And _I've_ told you before, it's just Dick."

The two shook hands firmly, before Dick motioned for the other to sit. Bruce took a chair facing his young friend, nodding in approval. "You certainly have shot up a few good inches since the last time I saw you."

Dick flushed from the praise, ducking as he hurried to bring out two bottled drinks. "Hope you don't mind soda; we don't carry much else."

"Soda's fine. So tell me - how has life been treating you?"

"It's been good, but probably more exciting than yours, I bet."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at this comment. "Oh really...?"

"No offense, old man, but I don't see much adventure in tackling business proposals, charity dinners, and the occasional love-struck woman."

"Chum, you have absolutely no idea."

As the sodas were set on the small fold-up table between them, Dick swallowed a mouthful of soda from his.  
"Now tell _me_ - what brings you here?"

"I can't come by for just a social visit?"

"Bruce, you can come by any time; however, I know you, and I know I'd get an invite to your mansion if it were a mere social visit. I'm figuring Alfred wouldn't forgive you if he didn't get to say 'hi'."

"You're still dropping in tonight."

"Of course I am." Dick smirked before ceasing the digression. "Anyhow, if you'd make the trip all the way here, it's got to be something big.  
"So what can I do for Haley Brother's Circus' greatest benefactor?"

"Well..."  
Bruce paused to set his own bottle of soda back down on the table - Dick noticed he had barely touched it yet.  
"I was hoping you were taking in students."

"...what?"

"Batman brought in a boy some nights ago for trying to take the hub caps off his car."

Dick winced at the statement, but allowed Bruce to continue.

"He's still quite young, and Batman did not wish to turn him over. I agreed to take him in, but he's proven quite the challenge. He has a lot of anger in him, and nothing has proven to be a good outlet."

"And you think it might help him to go flying with me?"

"He reminds me a lot of you when you were younger, so it just struck me..."

"Bruce, I've been doing this before I could even walk, and he's-how old?"

"Twelve."

"-twelve. It's going to be one stiff challenge."

"You could do it; I have faith in you."

"A lot more than I have in myself, apparently," Dick muttered, shaking his head. "What's his name?"

"Jason Todd."

"So I get to meet him tonight?"

Bruce nodded.

Dick thought about everything, then made his decision as he let out a deep sigh. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. I need to see if he's got the right stuff, but I'll see what I can do."

The relief on Bruce's face told Dick all he needed to know.

The rest of the time passed easily as the two caught up on events. Finally, it was time for Bruce to leave.

"Thank you, Dick; I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything," Dick answered evenly. "You let us use your land every year we visit. You sponsor Mr. Haley, and Batman answers your requests to keep it guarded from the mobsters. You were the only one who would listen to a little boy that chaotic night, when no one else would, and you had Batman bring Tony Zucco in.  
"You and Batman have done so much for me, made me the man I've become. I'd do anything for you two."

The smile on Bruce's face could not be more genuine.  
"I'll see you tonight, chum."

"Later, old man."

Dick watched the man depart, finding himself looking forward to the annual mansion visit that was coming up quickly. He missed Alfred, and he was curious to meet this boy Jason.

Hopefully, he'd catch the Batman in action on their large television as well.

The Batman and Bruce Wayne...both men were surprisingly alike. One was as frigid as a stone, and the other was friendly, but they could not be more alike than two peas in a pod.

There were no other two men he would give his loyalty to.

But there was something that Bruce Wayne had that Batman didn't.

Batman had been the one to save his life, to find Zucco when no one else could, and to rope him in when no one else had the guts to.

Bruce Wayne had been the one to see a frightened little boy curled up on the floor and grieving, to offer him a strong shoulder, to hear him out, to believe in him, to stand by him to the very end.

There was no other man than Bruce Wayne that he was glad to have met.

In fact, there was no other man he would have liked, for just a moment, to call "Dad".


	3. Take 2: Perchance to Dream

_**Just some F.Y.I. before proceeding:**_

_**- Renegade is the name Nightwing used while working undercover as a villain and teaching Deathstroke's daughter Rose. I'm just using it for personal convenience (and because I'm too lazy to come up with a non-cheesy name for him).**_

_**- This takes place supposedly before Grant Wilson had the enhancements done to him while he was contracted to assassinate the Titans.**_

_**- There are plenty of quotes I took out and adapted from a certain movie. If you can tell me which movie it is, I'd also like to hear any ideas you have for more alternate realities to write on.**_

* * *

**Take 2: Perchance to Dream**

The Ravager did not appear to like Gotham City. The Renegade, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

The Renegade had been to Gotham once before, when he was a small child, and when his name had been Dick "Robin" Grayson, the Boy Wonder of Haley Brother's Circus.

Just a week ago had been the eighth anniversary since the tragedy that had ended the Flying Graysons, and consequently the circus.

Dick Grayson had been gone by then.

The Renegade could still remember what had happened that day: he had heard Mr. Haley being threatened with more "accidents", and when the police asked him questions, he told them everything. Tony Zucco had come after him, then, to silence him as well.

Neither of them had counted on someone from Zucco's shady past to contract an assassin. A real-deal, whatever-it-takes assassin.

That had been the first sight of Deathstroke the Terminator that young Dick Grayson would ever remember: the tall, foreboding mercenary with the bloody katana in one hand, Tony Zucco's body slumped over.

The Terminator had forcefully taken him in that night as his apprentice; apparently, his fame as a prodigy had even reached the mercenary's ears, and that was all he needed.  
Deathstroke never ill-treated him, but he had not been kind; the apprentice grew up hardened and bitter, no longer Richard John Grayson.  
His master had dubbed him the Renegade.

"Hey, you - what's the boss say?"

The Renegade turned to answer the Ravager's question, inwardly miffed at the sight of the slightly older boy digging through the rice wine stash of their latest hit place. Upon the discovery of Grant Wilson's recent initiation into this line of work, Deathstroke had sent his apprentice in as his "partner", more to keep tabs on the other than anything else.  
A kind master, Deathstroke was not; a father who cared, he was.

The Renegade delivered their current orders of staking out to the other, then sank to a crouch as he took a breath. This mission had been a rough one; this branch of the Lucky Triad had given them a long run for their money this night.  
The Ravager finally found what he was looking for, and crouched by the Renegade while taking a swig from the bottle.

"...y'know," he started, swishing the liquid around in the bottle. "I had this dream last night. I was sitting on a golden beach in a pair of these comfy designer trunks, and these girls came up to me, wearing nothing but short little grass skirts, and they were carrying this drink, in a coconut. As they served me the drink, they brushed their tits across my face..."

If the Ravager was expecting a reaction of any sort from the Renegade, he was not getting any. Undaunted, he continued.

"Yeah, well, that was the end of the best bits. After that, this giant tiki thing just showed up with a machine gun, and started blasting away. When it stopped, there was nothing left...nothing but blood and guts, and bits of body everywhere.  
"What a damned nightmare."

At this point, the Ravager turned and eyed the Renegade. "...betcha a block o' rock like you never had a dream in your life, eh?"

For a moment, the Renegade wanted to tell him about his own nightmares, his own dreams.  
Anything to see the Ravager's mouth drop.

He wanted to tell him about how he dreamt of his parents' plunge to their deaths, and of how he sometimes dreamt of himself falling with them.

He wanted to tell him about how he dreamt of a sky full of bats, and of a giant bat that, while somewhat chilling, gave him a sense of reassurance in the black depths of its wings.

He wanted to tell him about how he dreamt of the bat catching him before he fell, of helping him fly, even when his wings were clipped, of the bat's words in the midst of a foggy background of lights, sirens and canvas.

**_"It will get better, Richard. I promise_**.**_"_**

But the Renegade was too tired for it; he did not have the mood or wish to tussle with a semi-drunk Ravager this night, not while he was still healing from the fight.  
All he did was shrug.

The Ravager stared at him a moment longer, then turned to look out the window, at the shining circle of light with a bat in its center that hovered in the dark sky.

"...that must be nice...must be plenty peaceful. Here, have some of this."

The bottle was passed, and the Renegade tilted it to take a gulp at the rice spirits. Lowering it, he coughed, then returned it to the slightly amused Ravager.

The Ravager swigged from the bottle again, then set it down on the ground half-empty.

"...I hate dreams."


	4. Take 3: Making a Gotham out of Bludhaven

**Take 3: Making a Gotham out of Blüdhaven**

Batman did not know which was worth more question: that he was being called, or the way he was being called.

He had hardly spotted the little flash of light and the bat at its center - a poor miniature mimic of his Bat-signal - across the rooftop of the B.H.P.D. building.

But it was there, and he answered it.

The one who greeted him might as well be a boy, young as he was. Yet, he stood tall even in Batman's presence, returning the chilling aloofness with silent regard.

"You're a rookie," Batman had commented bluntly, catching the lack of badge and other details.

The young man nodded, though appearing justifiably indignant about the fact. "B.H.P.D. has 'special requirements' that I have yet to meet. But that is not why I asked for this meeting, sir."

"What is it, then?"  
Batman was curt, not because of anything personal; Chief Redhorn had not sent him off on a positive note just minutes earlier.

"You wanted information on the recent gun-running activities taking place near the harbors."

Batman did not so much as blink as the rookie cop held out a binder-file of paper. Taking it with equal solemnity, he looked through it.  
"Your Chief of Police told me this information did not exist."

"It should not; his orders were to erase every detail of this, as though it never existed. His boss wanted him to cover it up."

Batman looked up at this point, demanding further explanation which the boy gave.

"Blockbuster has the police force on his monthly budget, especially Chief Redhorn; almost every officer in that building drives a Jag, eats in a restaurant three times a day, seven days a week, or vacations at Hawaii on regular basis.  
"There's deep corruption running here, so deep, you'd think Superman would have a better time changing a river's course than tackling this run-down dump."

"Why tell me all this?"

"Because you can do something about it," the rookie stated in a matter-of-fact manner. "You're Batman; you can do anything for the sake of justice."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" Batman commented sardonically; if he had any sense of humor on the job, this was probably it.

"I grew up in Gotham with G.C.P.D. officer Montoya as my legal guardian, and I have a girlfriend back there. I've seen you in action since I was eight. If anyone can make a difference in this place, even for just one little night, it has to be you."

Batman was silent again, before holding out the papers. "You're risking a lot by handing me these."

"Years ago, you helped a little Romany boy who lost everything he once knew. You brought his parents' murderer to justice, and you helped him find a home with a strong police officer who could teach him to grow up straight and good.  
"Consider this his way of payback."

When he got no answer, the rookie cop sighed and picked up the cardboard bat cutout and made as to destroy it.

"Hold on to that."

The young man stopped and looked up, surprise written all over his face.

"I won't be leaving anytime soon," Batman informed him solemnly. "At least, not with this lead you have given me.  
"Call me if there's anything else."

The boy blinked, then a smile formed as he nodded. "Absolutely.  
"Tomorrow night, then."

"Very well."

Batman turned and fired a grappling hook toward the next building, one hand keeping firm hold of the precious file.

"Batman? Thank you."

He was already flying through the air by then, landing on another perch. As he looked back for a brief moment, he saw the rookie disappear back into the building. Alone, he allowed himself a small shadow of a smile.

_No, Dick Grayson; thank **you**._


	5. Take 4: A Kindred Spirit

_**Set in post-Bloodstorm and Blood Mist, both part of the Elseworld trilogy.  
With the blood fest, I understand why Dick Grayson wasn't included. I'm still sad at the potential that therefore was not harnessed.**_

_**Also based on the idea given to me by Rachel, of a dark Batman who did not have a Robin. I apologize if this was not what you had in mind; the idea is great, but I'm still pretty green. I'll try to do this idea more justice in the future.**_

* * *

**Take 4: A Kindred Spirit**

He remembered, many years ago, the earliest memory he ever had: A little, helpless, frightened boy in a red and green leotard and a short yellow cape, kneeling by the remains of his young life. Above, hanging by a lone swaying pole was the almost shredded banner of Haley Brother's Circus, all that was left of the tent, the grounds, the cages, the grounds. It was all gone; nothing but dust, debris, and a lone pole with a ruined banner.

Then the kindly figure of an old English butler came up to him, and the memory ended in faded black.

The butler's name was Alfred Pennyworth, claiming to have just been dismissed from the service of the late Bruce Wayne. That name had a familiar ring; Wayne was the billionaire who sponsored the circus several nights in Gotham City. The boy supposed he might have seen the man on special nights, but he could never remember a face, or even if this assumption was true.

Memories seemed so fake, sometimes.

Alfred, despite questions and talk in the streets, had taken the boy into the now empty mansion and raised him there, in place of the home's true master. "Master Bruce would have wished for this," he would often say, and the boy would equally as often wonder what kind of person this specter truly was.

He remembered, when he was a little older, the day he stumbled upon the old grandfather's clock and discovered the secret passageway behind it, and the cave the passageway led to. Alfred had not been angry - he did not look like he was angry, and had instead introduced him to the legendary hero who now was the costumed covered corpse that lay at the cave's center with a stake driven through the heart.

The boy learnt about the Batman, and he took his inspiration from the tales of his heroism, his courage, and his self-sacrifice. If anything, he wanted to become like the Batman.

That was when the boy grew up and started his own anti-vampire squad of fellow brave souls. Leading them to defend the city, he wanted to prove that even humanity could make a difference against the supernatural.

He failed terribly, and Gotham City was nearly lost.

That was, until this night, at exactly half an hour ago when Alfred Pennyworth had gone behind his back and ripped the stake from the Batman's heart.

A mistake to solve all mistakes; a double edged sword to a festering wound. Alfred had begged for forgiveness for his choice, but he could not stop the grown boy from pursuing his heroic figure into the night.

So there they were now, one chasing after the other. One a demonic bat, the other a soaring young robin with a horse-healthy supply of de-cel lines.

Finally, the bat stopped and turned hundred-eighty, the suddenness so great it knocked the wind out of the young man and sent them both hurtling back onto the roof.

**_"Stay away from me,"_** the creature growled, unearthly eyes glowing red.

The boy figured he was supposed to be afraid, but he wasn't. He was just downright pissed.

After all, he had modeled himself after a great dark knight with the goal of defending the civilians and making a difference. He had modeled himself after the legendary Batman.

Not this..._thing_.

"Not even if you ate me, rat-face."

A mistake. The youth barely got away before the monster attempted to take a pound of meat from him. Then the bat stopped, growling, trying to regain a hold on sanity, then moved to leave again.

"Wait."

At least the bat was listening, now.

The boy moved carefully now; he'd learnt his lesson from earlier.  
"...look, I know we started out on the wrong foot...uh...what I'm trying to say is-"

_**"You're not helping me."**_

"But-"

_**"I don't need help from you, human."**_

"Damn it, listen to yourself!" the boy snapped at this point; to hell with diplomacy. "You don't even see yourself as human anymore?"

_**"You ignorant, blind fool, look at me."**_

"Who cares what you look like, you obnoxious old leather-covered-" the boy stopped himself and took a calming breath. "It's not what's in your blood that I'm talking about; it's your spirit.

"I know you don't look anything like you did in the past, but you're still the Batman. You're still the man who gave up his life for the city he cared about. That's who you really are. That's the man inside you, no matter the blood and-

"Are you listening to me?"

_**"I am. And I still say you are an ignorant, blind fool."**_

The younger's face reddened in anger before he let all hell break loose again. "You're a real piece of work, you know that _Bruce Wayne_!"

The Batman stopped moving at this point. For a second, those red orbs seemed to hold some miniscule degree of surprise to hear his own birth name.

The youth did not care as he started walking away. "I don't need to take this; give me a ring if you finally decide to pull that stick out of your leather butt and join the rest of civilization. I'm outta here."

_**"... Fine."**_

The youth stopped. "... Say that again."

_**"... I said, 'fine'. I'll take your help...but stay out of my way."**_

The young man turned back and looked the other in the eye. He was still pissed, but he was willing to forgive...maybe just a little...maybe just for tonight.

He stuck out a gauntlet-covered hand. "Richard Grayson; you can call me Dick."

The bat was silent for what seemed like forever before he changed into something more...human-like. His own gloved hand came forward and grasped his in a firm handshake.

_**"Bruce Wayne; you will call me Batman."**_

The hand was an icy, inhumanly cold, but deep down, the boy liked to think he could still feel a specter of warmth there.

The warmth that was the legendary hero's reawakening.


End file.
